


Esca's Hair

by Sistermine



Series: Farming Today [4]
Category: Eagle - Fandom
Genre: Happy Gay Farmers, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sistermine/pseuds/Sistermine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five people who loved Esca and messed with his hair & one person Esca loved and whose hair <b>he</b> messed up</p>
            </blockquote>





	Esca's Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Modern AU  
> Warnings: Un-beta-ed early fanfic. Domesticity, minor character death, minor violence, inconsistent details within series.
> 
> Inspired by LJ's [the_eagle_kink,](http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/752.html?thread=1087984#t1087984) prompted by anon:  
>  _So Celt and Pict warrior usually kept their hair long. So I like to imagine that Esca grew his hair out after being set free._  
>  _Don't care how you do, but Esca with long hair and Marcus' reaction (good or bad) to it. Sex with Esca's long hair will be equally appreciated._
> 
> And originally inspired by an [art!fic response by motetus](http://pics.livejournal.com/motetus/pic/0003zk3b).  
> Originally posted summer 2011. 
> 
> Disclaimer: No offence intended, no profits made

One  
  
A lot of his childhood memories are of his mother, either clouting him round the head, sometimes quite hard, or ruffling his hair. Also sometimes quite hard.  
  
  
Two  
  
Baba. Barbara Swinbutt. Unfortunate name to grow up with, especially where they grew up. Her nickname was also unfortunate because of the baby overtones. Her behaviour was often quite toddler-ish, as if from the constant reminders not to grow up.  
  
On the other hand, she'd grown up plenty by the time they were 14. Because they lived near each other they'd end up on the same bus. Somehow, she was impervious to insults and always got the better of taunting the boys. She taunted Esca for being skinny, for dancing and for being gay. That was before he knew what he was. And everyone taunted him for dancing.  
  
She taunted him for his hair, flopping in his eyes. She challenged him that if he dyed it blue and got a Mohican, she'd suck his cock. He didn't think she would (despite the rumours), but he was sick of the taunting, and of his own image of himself.  
  
So he did it, with a bit of help from his friend Jan, a bottle of his dad's glue out of the stair cupboard, and a can of hairspray. And the way Baba's eyes widened when she saw him was like watching a cartoon animal. He wasn't going to hold her to the blow job; the whole episode had earned him so many brownie points that it was worth it in its own right (except for getting dropped from the show he'd been sure he'd get the lead in).  
  
Baba had other ideas, and waylaid him coming home from dance one night, took him round the back alley near the sandwich shop, and provided his first sexual experience with someone else involved. In person, rather than just in his head.  
  
It all happened rather fast. Afterwards she wanted to touch his hair, and he let her. He didn't offer anything else back though. To be fair he was completely out of it by then.  
  
The hair soon faded to ugly and the style was way too much of a faff to keep going.  
  
It was a long time until anyone else touched him like that.  
  
  
Three  
  
He and a couple of his mates sometimes went into the city for a night out, and occasionally managed to get into the students' union bar. Once in, it was easy to get served without ID, the beer and the pool were cheap, and no-one hassled them, even when they they made two pints last all night. The tricks were: to only go in ones or twos, to get in when a big group of students was trying to squeeze past security, to not really talk to anyone, to look like you belonged there, and to not gather in a big group of locals. Security had a nose for locals, and chucked them out.  
  
Esca was buying their second drinks up at the bar, Scott and Pete hogging a pool table in the corner, and was just paying (they might just have enough for another round later) when a dark-haired young man asked him, smiling but intense, what he was doing here. He had a moment of frozen terror, thinking they were going to be thrown out, when he realised the boy meant what subject did he study. Although his panic died down, he still couldn't think of anything plausible, and blurted out “Maths”.  
  
The guy nodded, looking impressed, and after a longish pause (idiot, thought Esca to himself, he must think I look like a goldfish, gaping), volunteered, “I do drama”. Actually, Esca was impressed. He'd never really thought about it, that people would study drama at a university.  
  
His dad always said he had a taste for the dramatic. This man had very dramatic eyes. Black-lashed bright-blue. Esca managed to say, “I love drama”.  
  
The guy laughed, looking pleased. He said, “Do you want to come back to my room, and do drama with me?”  
  
It took him a moment to work out what had actually been said, re-playing the words in his head. “What?” he said. Staring at the other man's eyes, he saw the light fade in them a little.  
  
The man laughed again, sheepish. “Sorry. Worst pick-up line ever.” He looked away, then back at Esca. “My friends bet me that I wouldn't do it”.  
  
Esca's brain had slowed down, and he couldn't work out his feelings. Shock. Realisation. Anticipation. Disappointment: a joke then. “Well, you did do it”, he said, cocky self back on for protection. His legs felt shaky. “What do you win?”, he asked.  
  
“That depends”. He was being watched candidly.  
  
“On what?” He should take the beer and go. Now. He picked up the three pints, a triangle between both hands, eyes focused on the brims watching the beer sway.  
  
The other man put a hand on his arm to stop him moving away. “I've been watching you all night”, he said.  
  
Esca looked up, and his stomach leapt. It's a good job I don't do drama, he thought, since I can't string two words together. His body was obviously good at conveying his feelings, because the man had run his hand up to Esca's shoulder, and was saying, “Give your friends their beer, and come back with me. I've got coffee”.  
  
Esca wondered where the idea of coffee had come from. He didn't want coffee. He didn't want beer either. Cocky-self had left the building, and he was alone here with... he didn't know the guy's name. He was about to do something momentous, with someone he didn't know.  
  
OK. He could start with that. “What's your name?”, he said.  
  
It wasn't until they were in the corridor outside Danny's room that his brain caught up. Gods, he was going to be stuck here with no lift, and no buses later. Pete and Scott had looked incredulous at his garbled story, but they'd gone along with it, glad to share the extra pint.  
  
He followed into Danny's room, a brief impression of tiny desk, tiny bed and colourful walls, before Danny closed the door behind him and pulled him in, stroking his hair from his forehead, pushing his fingers through it; amazing tingling feeling as the nails gently scraped across his scalp, wired straight to his cock. He felt like some kind of puppet, helplessly passive, turned on, dangling from Danny's fingers in his hair, just watching as Danny pulled him forward.  
  
When Danny finally kissed him he felt his limbs come alive again. His mouth was filled with tongue as Danny angled his head and ran his other hand down Esca's chest to his waistband and under. He pressed against Danny, pushing his own tongue back again, feeling wetness, warmth and sheer fulfilment.  
  
At some point, he managed to get his bearings, and started to work his hands into Danny's clothes, undoing his belt and pulling his shirt out of the jeans, getting hands on the hot skin of Danny's back.  
  
They had to part to take off shoes and more clothes, and then they were naked on the thin quilt. Esca felt too turned on, his cock demanding and restless. A rational part of him wanted to talk, to find out more about Danny, size him up and enjoy him. The part currently in control was just demanding now now now, get on with it. It had a friend in Danny who was holding Esca's cock in his fist and working his hand up and down, and the moaning was all Esca.  
  
He lost track of his own movements and just felt what was being done to him, relentlessly taken and worked and pleasured, and when orgasm flowed over him he clung to Danny's shoulder and groaned.  
  
Danny held him, then kissed him again, and then started rubbing up against him and kissing him harder. Esca felt for him and gently stroked fingers over and around his cock, mapping it as if trying to memorise its shape from his touch, feeling the ridges and veins, the length and girth, the weirdness of the slit at the top, wet and hot.  
  
“Esca”, Danny was saying, “touch me, harder”, so he pushed him onto his back and watched himself hold the other man's cock in his fist, moving like Danny had done to him. He stopped to gently stroke and tease again until Danny complained and begged, then used his fist firmly again, and Danny lay back and closed his eyes, making occasional small noises. He'd never had anyone in his power quite like this before.  
  
As Danny's moans got louder, he broke off again, handling Danny's balls, then relented and used his fist, and soon this time Danny's cock jerked and he moaned loudly and came over Esca's hand, heels pressing down into the quilt and head arched back. Esca stared at his face as he lay there, and then Danny's eyes opened and they were kissing again, open-mouthed, not so desperate now, slowly and enjoyably. Danny broke off and reached for tissues to wipe them off, pointing Esca to the tiny bathroom cubicle squeezed between his room and the one next door.  
  
They got under the quilt after that, close together in the small bed, and Danny, pressed back against the wall, got Esca to turn round, back towards him, and pulled Esca in to his chest. Esca relaxed into Danny's hold, enjoying the stroking and the kisses on his shoulder, the carding of his hair. Then Danny stopped playing with his hair and just held a fistful and pulled Esca's head back, kissing his neck hard and circling a hand on his belly, slowly round and round, and Esca's cock was hardening again.  
  
Danny started touching him. Taking a leaf out of Esca's book he started teasing, soft and gentle, two fingers and thumb just on the ridge, stroking up to come off at the top again, ever so lightly, a slight pause each time, repeated and repeated until Esca's cock was rigid, and his whole body tense with desire.  
  
Danny pushed a knee between his legs and propped Esca's top leg up. He reached for something, and then Esca felt wetness smeared over his inner thighs, his balls and then his cock, cool hands soothing his heat. Danny got some more lube and was doing something between them, and Esca felt Danny's cock, hot and wet now, pressed up against his arse, sliding easily between the cheeks. As Danny rocked his hips, he held the base of Esca's cock, pressing their bodies together.  
  
Danny started jacking Esca again, loosely, slowly speeding up, and Esca gave in completely, again feeling orgasm rise up and take him over. Danny caught the semen, not so much this time, and then rubbed his wet hand down behind Esca's balls, back between his buttocks, over his hole. Esca had a moment of panicky anxiety as Danny tipped him over onto his front, pressed onto the bed, but then Danny was using his knees to bring Esca's legs together firmly, pushing his cock between the tops of Esca's thighs, greased by lube and semen as he rutted himself to completion, solid weight holding Esca down, anchoring him, moaning in his ear. He dropped to the side as he finished, a hand on Esca's back, leaving Esca messy, sprawled, owned, on the rumpled sheets. Danny cleaned them up quickly, and Esca was meaning to talk, ask him things, but the drag of sleep pulled him under.  
  
Danny was Esca's first for a lot of things.  
  
First time he lay naked, limbs tangled with someone else's. First time he spent all night with someone. First time he felt loved. First time his body was worshipped, his hair venerated. First time he fell in love. First time his heart was broken.  
  
In the morning they were woken up to a blaring alarm clock. Danny said he couldn't be late for his class and hauled himself away from Esca's arms, disappearing for a quick wash and pulling clothes on as he asked Esca where he'd be later.  
  
That was when it came crashing down. Esca, opened, trusting, told him the truth. Danny, white-faced, sank onto the bottom of the bed, distant, staring at him. He seemed to be processing it slowly, and then summarised: “You're under-age, and you're not a student”.  
  
“So what. I'll be 18 … soon.”, he struggled to start lying now. “You can't be much older than me.” It was sinking in to Esca's head that this was a bigger problem than he thought it ought to be.  
  
Danny shook his head, looking fearful. “Shit Esca. I can't do this. We can't do this again.”  
  
Esca started, “What. Don't be stupid... nobody takes any notice of that kind of...  
  
Danny stood up, fastening his watch, interrupting. “Yeh, they do. Someone at my school...”. He paused. “We can still be friends”, he threw at Esca sideways as he picked his bag up from the desk. “Look, I've got to go. Meet me for lunch?” He waited for Esca's reply, who just stared at him, then went on,” Just after 12 at Marney's, next to the Uni?” He waited again for a small nod from Esca, then flung out of the room.  
  
It was very quiet when he'd gone.  
  
Esca kind of understood when Danny told him, bolting down a burger. It probably wasn't the whole story, but the bit where Danny was the supposed victim, and a teacher from his school had got into serious trouble for getting involved with him – yeh, that all rang true.  
  
“But,” Esca argued, “He was a teacher and you were a pupil. It's different. No-one thinks you're seducing me.”  
  
“But I'm older”, Danny said. “I did seduce you. I shouldn't have slept with you. Thank God we didn't fuck”.  
  
Esca wasn't thanking any of his gods.  
  
The next time he saw Danny, a couple of days later, Danny'd brought reinforcements; two friends who were perfectly pleasant as Esca got ruder, desperate to put his hands on Danny, frustrated and bitter that he couldn't. As the night wore on, Danny asked him what time his bus left, and Esca stared at him, disbelieving, then got up and just walked away. He made it out of the building before the tears choking him were visible. He never went back to the students' union again.  
  
He got a tattoo and started doing Taekwondo, but neither could quite equal or extinguish the pain.  
  
The final time he ever saw Danny was at an agricultural show and they were both with partners. Enough years had gone by to make it still awkward, but not unpleasant. It had taken Esca less than a day to fall in love, and over a year to get over him.  
  
  
Four  
  
  
Alice was very tall and very thin and very good at Taekwondo. She'd moved into town from some little village, fleeing a failed romance to pursue her vocation as a hairdresser. She was focused, ambitious, and thwarted; an artist in waiting. She took quite a lot of it out on Esca, who let her vent her various stymied passions on his hair.  
  
She cut it into weird styles, dyed it regularly, and mainly used him as her inner Goth; inflicting on him elaborate and dark appearances that she wasn't allowed to express in the mid-market salon she was training at, for fear of frightening the natives.  
  
They'd been friends first, both of them immune to easy love, and had grown together slowly, like a middle-aged couple, comfortable and confident in their solid friendship, fulfilled in their bed. They shared a flat before they slept together, and she encouraged his dancing and his Taekwondo, but she had more of a vocation than he did, and when he turned down the London dance school place because his Dad was ill and he didn't want to leave her, she supported him, emotionally and economically. But the dark persona she was painting on him found its mark and he overstepped the boundaries, becoming every inch the disaffected, angry young man.  
  
After the funeral, she didn't like his new persona, and he didn't either really, and it was kind of a relief to have an excuse to finally hit someone when a squaddie made some remark about why she was with him, one night in a local pub. He didn't even remember the Taekwondo rules until the moment passed, and he and the man were both in custody. The soldier was taken off by military police, and he was left to the tender mercies of the local magistrates, who were having a crack-down and gave him community service.  
  
He didn't have too much going for him on his side, and Alice told him she was leaving, going to Manchester, and it'd been fun, she wished him well, blah blah blah. It wasn't as difficult as it should have been.  
  
They still kept in touch, and she sent him photos of her children, reaching milestones one by one.  
  
  
Five  
  
The farm he'd ended up working on, hedge-laying and ditch-digging, was a revelation to him. He'd grown up on the edge of town, practically in the country, but had never really set foot in it. He loved it, despite the other men grumbling and skiving, and arguing over cigarettes and girlfriends. He could see himself doing this kind of work.  
  
It didn't hurt that the farmer, tall and well-built, was often around as well, easily recognisable at a distance limping over the grass or stooping over in the mud at the bottom of the upper fields wearing a characteristic tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt and baggy camouflage trousers.  
  
The guy wasn't in charge of his community service helpers, but had a no-nonsense yet pleasant manner of detailing the tasks that needed doing each morning, and Esca wasn't surprised to learn that he'd been in the army. No-one seemed to quite know the story, or at least there seemed to be several conflicting versions. Consensus seemed to be that it was the Italian army, but he'd been linked to a British army battalion, and ended up here after being hurt. Didn't quite explain the perfect English, or the fact that he seemed to own, or at least run, a local farm. There was no wife to explain it either.  
  
Esca found himself more interested than he wanted to be. This time it took him a year to fall in love.  
  
The day he knew for sure, he'd been working for Marcus off his own bat for six months and could now count himself a good friend. He'd finally succumbed to the offer of a neck massage that he'd been resisting for exactly the reason that he thought Marcus was offering it. He was undeniably attracted to this friend, but he wanted to keep the job, its attached accommodation in a spare room, and the friendship. Tonight, however, his resolve was weak: he was stiff from putting up barge boards on one of the eaves, and he'd had a beer, and Marcus was acting oddly, antsy.  
  
Esca straddled a kitchen chair, leaning forward resting his head on his arms across the chair back. Marcus stood behind him and rubbed his neck and thumbed his shoulders, his upper back and his collar bones, pushing fingers down the neck of his shirt. As Marcus kneaded an intractable knot in his back muscles, Esca found himself groaning, and then trying to stifle the noise with embarrassment. Marcus laughed slightly and said, “Don't worry about making a noise. I promise not to tease you about it tomorrow.” He was thorough and slow, and Esca slowly melted, making soft sounds of satisfaction.  
  
Marcus was moving his thumbs up Esca's neck now, up to his scalp, fingers combing into his hair, around his ears and right to the top of his head, massaging and stroking firmly, messing his hair up completely. Esca meant to say stop, meant to pull away, wanted to prevent the now inevitable. Marcus kept on carding his hair, tingling his scalp, stroking his core.  
  
Esca was lost, couldn't move; unwilling and unable. When Marcus said his name, hands still buried in his hair, tugging him backwards, Esca was powerless to do anything but go with it, leaning back against Marcus's body as Marcus tipped his head back against his belly and started to stroke his face. He opened his eyes and looked up at Marcus, who was looking at him, naked want clear in his eyes.  
  
He was surprised when Marcus slid his hands down his face to his throat and just held his hands there for a moment, gazing at him, and then moved him forwards a bit with his whole body, giving Esca his balance back, and then stepped back away from him saying, “Sorry.” Esca had no idea what he was sorry for, his brain had ceased to give him any clues. Marcus said in a bright voice, “I need to go to bed. Another long day tomorrow”. By the time Esca'd swung off the chair, Marcus was gone from the kitchen.  
  
Esca stood there. And then he followed Marcus upstairs.  
  
  
...and one time Esca did the messing  
  
  
Esca came into the kitchen shaking water off his hat onto the floor, and taking off his wet coat.  
  
Marcus grinned at him. “Good meeting?” he asked, getting up to put the kettle on. “How were the village idiots tonight?”  
  
“On fine form”, Esca said, resting a hand on his shoulder briefly, then moving to pick up a pile of post, rifling through, and putting it back down. “Most things are sorted. I said they could use the top field as part of the village olympics … for the mini-marathon. Means we'll have to get that fence mended before next saturday. Is that OK?”, he glanced at Marcus who was making a pot of tea.  
  
“Sure”, said Marcus. “We've been meaning to do it for ages, before we get sued by some rambler.” He handed Esca a mug. “Won't actually take long, but it will take both of us. I'll be here all week, so just let me know when it fits into your schedule”.  
  
Esca sat down at the table. “I hope you don't mind; I've also volunteered us for stall duty on the day, as trouble-shooters.”  
  
“I don't mind”. Marcus leaned against the counter and sipped his tea carefully.  
  
“Ah, but you've forgotten the down-side ... it's fancy dress – the village through the ages”.  
  
“Oh Gods, I'd forgotten. Wonder if Cottia has that country-yokel smock still.”  
  
Esca laughed, then looked up at Marcus.”There's something else … you're not going to like it.” He paused.  
  
“Just tell me”, Marcus raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Well”, Esca stalled for time, then took a breath. “The college are doing a sponsored haircutting session”.  
  
“Ye-es?” Marcus looked curious.  
  
“And... I said I'd be a model”.  
  
“OK?” Marcus was waiting for the catch.  
  
“That's it”. Esca drank from his mug, looking innocent.  
  
“Esca”, Marcus said warningly. “What am I not going to like?”  
  
Esca tipped his chair back and took a breath. “They're going to cut all my hair off”.  
  
Marcus stared. Then he said, “Why?”  
  
“To raise money. For charity. I think it's Amnesty this year”.  
  
“No, idiot, why are they cutting all your hair off?”  
  
“Well they might not... but the idea is that the sixth form college students are doing some kind of fashion show, and they also get to cut the model's hair, and basically it's not going to be good, so in the end it'll be a barber's clippers all over. And that bit's sponsored separately: two great village events for the price of one; one, very short, haircut. A No. 4 if we're lucky”.  
  
“And why are you volunteering for this... Aren't you doing enough already?” Marcus felt a bit petulant.  
  
“Most of the women didn't want to do it, not surprisingly, and most of the men, well, most of the men don't have a lot of hair. We wouldn't let Shenille cut off her afro so we were a bit short of models. When Cottia volunteered, I didn't think I could say no”. Esca held a hand out to Marcus. “I'm sorry, I knew you wouldn't be pleased. But it will grow again; you'll be able to get your hands back in it soon enough”. He smiled, hopefully.  
  
Marcus pouted, but held Esca's hand and let himself be pulled closer. “OK”, he said, putting his other hand in Esca's hair and carding it gently.  
  
*  
  
Marcus woke as Esca started to get out of bed to do the milking, and reached over to catch his wrist. “I've been dreaming about your hair,” he said, holding on and not letting Esca out of bed.  
  
“Hmm?” said Esca.  
  
“And I came up with a great idea in my sleep”, Marcus turned onto his back and pulled Esca over him, “– why don't I do it instead?”  
  
“What?”, Esca looked down at him.  
  
“I'll do the modelling thing, and the haircut.”  
  
“Are you serious?”  
  
“Mmm.” Marcus reached up to touch Esca's hair, and pulled Esca's head down to his lips, kissing him, raking his fingers through the locks. Esca hummed appreciatively.  
  
Marcus broke off, “I don't want to lose this”, he said, pulling Esca's longer hair slightly, and using it to pull his mouth back to his own. They kissed firmly, Esca holding his weight off Marcus's body, and then he pulled away, grinning broadly.  
  
“Gotta go do the milking. Cows can't wait”.  
  
Marcus pouted, “Can't Stephen do it on his own for once?”  
  
Esca just gave him a look, and said “No”. He pecked Marcus on the lips and said, “Go back to sleep. Dream of what you want to do to my hair some more, and tell me later”, then pulled away properly and went to peer out of the curtains at the sky, before heading to the bathroom.  
  
Marcus couldn't interpret the look of triumph on his face.  
  
Esca had been up in their room with Cottia and her friend for over an hour. “Esca!”, Marcus yelled up the stairs, “We've got to go now.”  
  
Doors slammed, and Cottia came down the stairs first, dressed as a rustic shepherd-boy, with her friend JJ behind her, incongruously tall in a fantasy shepherdess outfit, blond wig accentuating his dark skin. Behind them came Esca.  
  
Marcus stared at him, jaw dropping. “Wow”, he said, and Cottia poked him in the shoulder.  
  
“Keep your hands off him”, she said, laughing. “The new tattoos won't stand up to man-handling of the Marcus variety.”  
  
Esca laughed and said “She and Bo-Peep here did a good job, didn't they?”, looking down at his own blue-painted chest in admiration, beaded plaits falling forward over his shoulders, the feathers at the ends reaching his nipples. “Thank the Gods it's a nice day, or I'd freeze to death”. He stopped and took Marcus's hand; “Ready to go lose the hair?”  
  
Marcus nodded and picked up his bag with the other hand. “I've got my costume for after the fashion show, and everything else is already down at the school field. Let's go”.  
  
They walked to the landrover, Esca carefully placing a rather lethal looking spear in the back, and Marcus trying not to look too long at Esca's legs under the short leather kilt he was wearing, his feet strapped into some old suede boots with thonging tied around them accentuating his calves, repeated thonging at his wrists and neck, and nothing else but the enhanced blue tattoos across his upper body.  
  
“So, what has your outfit got to do with the village's history?” Marcus asked as Esca got in the passenger seat, Cottia and JJ clambering into the back.  
  
Esca turned, catching him looking at his arse, and laughed again. “Brigante Farm, idiot. And what have you got in your bag?”  
  
“That is a secret until after the show”, Marcus said, sticking his tongue out.  
  
“Come on boys”, Cottia said, stowing her bag behind the back seats and grinning at JJ. “Time for more foreplay later, after we've raised lots of money”.  
  
*  
  
Marcus kept getting glimpses of Esca during the day, but never managed to get much nearer than a quick shared coffee. Then he was paraded in the school hall, walking slowly so his limp wasn't noticeable, dressed in a really quite nice jacket and his own jeans, with a flamboyant shirt and tie combination and his hair shorter and spiked up with a gallon of gel. He got off lightly compared to some of the other models, Cottia swapping her rustic shepherd temporarily for a space-age tight-fitting multi-coloured bodysuit, with her hair worked into an asymmetric elaborate headdress matched by a kind of horizontal tutu round her waist. She cursed at Marcus behind the scenes as she tried to avoid messing it all up whilst waiting for her turn to go out on the catwalk.  
  
It was almost a relief when it was over, fashion students loud and bubbling around them waiting for the winner to be crowned. Then they could relax sitting out in the sun, waiting for their turn on the stage where the barber was doing his stuff with the clippers and the MC tried to drum up more money from the busy, noisy audience.  
  
Marcus watched Cotty's bone structure appear as her remaining hair vanished and thought that she looked lovely even without the hair. Then it was his turn, and the buzz took him straight back to his early army days. Old memories.  
  
  
Afterwards, he went back into the school hall and got changed into his costume, then off to his next assignment: relieving old Mrs Collins' tombola while she had her lunch. That was where Esca found him when he came bearing a lunch sandwich and cream cakes.  
  
Marcus looked up from selling a ticket to a small child and helping them match it up with their winnings - a set of colourful pens from the children's section - to find Esca staring at him. He found himself staring back; the day's heat made him feel randy and having his half-naked lover standing across the table from him was a little too tempting, especially with the beaded hair and the feather-tied ends, swaying over Esca's nipples.  
  
But Esca was staring in a different way. “I love the hair", Esca said, "but what is that?”, he gestured at the orange jumpsuit he had on. “Was that what you had to wear in the fashion show?”  
  
“No. This is my costume.” He waited for Esca to guess.  
  
Esca tipped his head on one side, considering. “No, don't get the village connection. Looks like an American prison outfit”.  
  
“Yes! Well, nearly: prisoner of war. Thought no-one would get it if I dressed like they did in the forties, so I thought Guantanamo was a more contemporary reference. And a fetching shade of orange. And it goes very well with the haircut.”  
  
Esca looked puzzled, and then his face cleared as if the penny dropped: ”Your grandfather?”  
  
“Yes”, said Marcus, “Very good, you get full marks. I've already had a number of conversations with people swearing blind there was no such thing here, but when I tell them the story, they often remember seeing Italian POWs working the land during the war. Surprisingly few of them know my grandfather was one of them, right here in this village”. He took a large bite from the sandwich Esca handed him.  
  
Esca came round the back of the table and stood closer, looking at him, then put his hand out to stroke over Marcus's head. “Feels very nice”, he said, rubbing backwards and forwards. “Like velvet”. He pressed closer.  
  
Marcus was just putting a hand on Esca's waist when someone coughed across the table, and they both turned. A stranger held up a pound coin and asked for a ticket. Esca said “I'd better go back to my post: I think I'm stewarding the race later on. Come and find me when you're free.” He stroked Marcus's head once more.  
  
Marcus watched as he went, muscles flexing under his tan and the mixture of painted and real tattoos, and then stood closer to the table to hide his erection whilst he served the customer.  
  
*  
  
Marcus was knackered, picking up some of the last bits of litter on the edge of the field and hearing the blare of the amped-up music sweep across as someone left the hall where the dancing was ramping up.  
  
He'd missed Esca most of the day, helping out where directed, but he thought back to the moment they'd managed to sneak away, mid-afternoon. Esca had been carrying a small child, sobbing into his shoulder, from the bouncy castle where she'd stubbed her toe, over to her mother at one of the stalls. As the mother took the weeping child and laughed about something with Esca, her eyes raking over him appreciatively, Marcus had felt something irresistable flow through him.  
  
“Come with me.” He'd practically frog-marched Esca to the landrover, and driven them down to the river car park, pushing through the overgrown summer vegetation to one of the many pretty spots the locals came for picnics during the day and teenagers came for other activities at night.  
  
He leant against a rickety wooden picnic table, pulling Esca in and kissing him, hands all over the sheen of his torso. “Watch the tattoos”, grumbled Esca, unzipping the long zip down the centre of the jumpsuit, and pushing it down Marcus' broad shoulders to pool on the table behind him, black boxers revealed underneath. “Cottia will kill me if they're smudged.”  
  
Marcus groaned and put his hands on Esca's kilted hips pulling them towards him. “I can't keep my hands off you any longer”, he said. “This outfit is killing me”. They kissed again as Marcus reached down and slid his hands up the backs of Esca's thighs under the kilt and onto his buttocks, pulling him in and wrapping his legs around the backs of Esca's knees. Esca was holding his upper body away from Marcus, rubbing his head compulsively, backwards and forwards, feeling the velvety-lie of his sheered-off hair.  
  
Eventually Esca pushed at him, “Hands off me. Lie back”. He made Marcus lie flat on the picnic table and pulled the fabric of Marcus's boxers down over his cock, framed in the orange V of the jumpsuit's opening. “Gods, Marcus”, he said, licking around the top of his cock like an icecream and then taking it in hand and mouth, firmly and wetly surrounding it. He began quickly jacking him with his lips still around the tip as Marcus put an arm over his eyes to keep the sun out and reached with his other hand to push into Esca's hair. He couldn't get his usual handhold in the plaited hair, and just grabbed a handful, tugging against the tight plaits as Esca moaned, sucking him harder.  
  
Marcus felt the sun on his chest, exposed, and quickly felt himself reaching the edge. He pulled Esca's hair harder to warn him, clinging on as his body gathered and shuddered, Esca keeping his mouth there, sucking him gently and holding his balls through the climax.  
  
“Ugh.” Marcus was incoherent now, melted onto the table and squinting into the sun as Esca straightened up and pulled his boxers back into place for him.  
  
“Mmm”, Esca said, leaning over him to kiss him hard, and then pulling back slightly as he rubbed his hair again, “My sexy beast”.  
  
Marcus grinned at him, and then moved to sit up, Esca lending him a hand as he swung himself up and off the table. “Your turn”, he said: “Sit.”  
  
Esca perched on the edge of the table, and Marcus felt under his kilt for the waist of his clingy briefs, pulling them down and then off over his boots, dropping them on to the ground. He manhandled Esca back on the table until his knees were just at the edge, and said “Lean back”. Esca complied, licking his lips, and Marcus stepped closer, flipping the leather of the kilt up onto Esca's stomach, displaying his thighs and erection.  
  
Marcus just looked for a moment, taking in the picture his lover made, impatient expression and inviting body. He wrapped a hand round Esca's cock, jacking up and down briefly, rolling his thumb over the slit, then reached forwards to kiss him, his other hand going to the back of Esca's neck and gathering up the braids.  
  
He held Esca's hair tightly, kissing him hard and jacking him firmly. Esca moaned, kissing him back, tongue thrusting into Marcus's mouth. Marcus pulled his mouth away and looked at Esca again. His beautiful body looked incredibly naked, exposed like this in the open air: tanned in places, paler in others, painted and tattooed, strips of leather tied around bits of him, the leather skirt rumpled at his waist and the darker pink of his cock and balls surrounded by pale brown hair, and Marcus's hands on him.  
  
He watched Esca's cock as his hand moved along it, jacking him how Esca liked it, slowly but firmly. He noticed Esca's hands gripping the table's edges, his thighs tense and his breathing faltering.  
  
“Marcus”, Esca moaned loudly, pushing his hips up into Marcus's grip and dropping his head backwards, and his cock spurted, a white pulse of fluid and then another and another, puddling on his stomach as Marcus continued to stroke him off. Finally, Esca moved, pushing Marcus's hand away, “Stop, stop”.  
  
Esca sat up properly and pulled Marcus to him, resting his forehead on his chest. Marcus played with his hair, flicking the plaits around and stroking the feathers over Esca's shoulders, tickling him. “Stop it”, Esca grunted, lifting his eyes and smiling. “You're getting come in my hair, aren't you”, he complained, pulling away to wipe off his belly with a hand. “Downside of not using condoms”, he laughed, easing off the table and wiping his hand in the long grasses. He reached for his briefs and Marcus pulled them out of his hold. “No”, Marcus said, “Don't wear them”.  
  
“Don't be daft”, Esca said, “I'm already practically naked. I'll get arrested”.  
  
Marcus pouted. “OK. Just don't put them on until we get back”. He pulled the jumpsuit back up over his shoulders and zipped it halfway up, stuffing the briefs inside, then pulled Esca to him again, slipping his hands under the kilt, fingers moving into his crack and tugging him closer. “Gods, I really love this thing”, he said, and Esca kissed him hard.  
  
“Pervert”, Esca said, pulling away finally, and grabbing his wrist to drag him back to the landrover. “Don't you have handcuffs with this outfit?”  
  
*  
  
Esca was wandering towards him over the field in the late evening gloom; Marcus could recognise his silhouette with the kilted hips.  
  
“Come and dance with me”, Esca said. Marcus looked at him, and knew he was done for.


End file.
